


If You Really Want To Have Some Fun...

by Pigzxo



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Bondage, Crack, Crossover, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Multi, The Author Regrets Nothing, i don't know what's going on with this anymore than you do, the first person to take this seriously loses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8600884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: Ronan buys an Exy team. Some of the people on the team are really weird.





	

Ronan walked into Monmouth with his arms spread wide. He said, “That’s it. The paperwork’s done. I’m now a millionaire.” He looked around the room. Gansey didn’t move from the couch, his eyes glued to the TV. Blue sat scribbling on top of his bed, spared him no more than a glance. And Noah, leaning absently against the door to his room, didn’t even bother to pretend to look excited. “Anytime you want to congratulate me.”

            “Congrats,” Blue said. “Now you can waste more money.”

            Ronan flipped her off and flopped down onto the couch next to Gansey. The sport he was watching was some violent lacrosse-soccer cross called Exy. Ronan didn’t see the appeal. Other than the rampant violence, it mostly involved a lot of fancy footwork and strategy. Something Gansey ate up while Ronan simply waited for the next guy to snap and throw a punch.

            He nudged Gansey in the shoulder. “What should I buy to commemorate the occasion?”

            Gansey shrugged.

            “New car? A house? Maybe I could bribe our teachers to give me better grades?”

            Gansey barely blinked.

            “Blue? Any suggestions?”

            “Textbooks?” she said. “Maybe a tutor.”

            Ronan rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV. The team Gansey always watched, the only team whose games Ronan saw on, were the people in maroon. However, any number of teams could have had that colour, so it was hard to tell for sure, but he was certain Gansey had gone on for hours about how two of the players on that team worked so flawlessly together that he only cared about watching them. Again, Ronan didn’t see it.

            “What about a helicopter?” Ronan said.

            Nothing.

            “A bouncy castle?”

            Not a blink.

            “A real castle?”

            Gansey sighed and paused the game. “I’m trying to figure out their scoring technique, okay?”

            “Why?”

            Gansey shrugged. “It’s interesting. Josten knows where Minyard will hit the ball before he’s even got it near his racket. To move so in sync, get the ball up the court, and yet somehow work with the other four people on the field?” He shook his head. “It’s intoxicating.”

            Ronan rolled his eyes, gestured for Gansey to play the game again. He watched the team move through the game, not catching whatever Gansey was picking up on. Maybe Gansey had finally snapped. He couldn’t find a new obsession, something new to find, so he’d started to obsess over a sport and find patterns that didn’t exist.

            “What if I bought them?”

            “What?” Gansey said.

            “The team. Whatever the fuck they’re called. What if I bought them?”

            Gansey gave him a look. “You can’t just buy a sports team.”

            “I can and I will,” Ronan replied. He got up and started to search for his phone, ignoring Gansey’s protests. Once he found his phone he realized he had no idea who the fuck to call to go about buying an Exy team, but a few calls to other people got him to the right place. “Hello. I’m calling to ask about buying the...” He snapped his fingers at Gansey.

            “Coyotes.”

            “The Coyotes,” Ronan finished. “Yes. I’ll hold.”

 

“Some fucking rich asshole thinks he can just buy the team?”

            Neil winced as Andrew slammed his locker shut. Andrew wiped the sweat off his face with his jersey, pulling it up off his undershirt and then cursing again through the fabric. He let it drop and slammed the locker with his fist again.

            “It’s not the end of the world,” Neil said.

            “He thinks he can just come in here and buy the team?”

            “It’s the pros, Andrew,” Neil said. He watched his boyfriend pace two steps away from the lockers and two steps back. Straddled over the bench, he looked for signs that he should intervene, but by now he knew when Andrew didn’t want to be touched. “The team’s for sale. All the time. A change in who owns it means a bit of paperwork but nothing else.”

            Andrew gave Neil a look. “You know that’s not fucking true. He’s gonna change all the management and get up in our business and get rid of the fucking coach—”

            “He’s not going to get rid of the coach. We’ve been winning. We’ll continue to win,” Neil said, fighting to keep his voice calm. It was easier than it should have been. Seeing Andrew riled up about Exy, caring about the fate of the game and the team, was still rare enough that it sent thrills through him. “He’s just a kid, Andrew. He doesn’t know fucking anything about hiring a whole new staff. It’s just a game for him.”

            “I’m gonna fucking kill him if he touches the staff.”

            Neil nodded, swallowed the smile the curled the edges of his lips. “You’d be entitled to.”

            “A hundred and fifty-two.”

            Neil smirked. “Get dressed. We have to meet him soon.”

            Andrew grumbled something incoherent – and probably threatening – before he started changing. Neil got up from the bench to give him his privacy and headed out into the main lobby with the rest of the team. The edge of one of two red leather couches was empty, the customary spot for him and Andrew, and Neil left enough room between himself and the arm rest for Andrew to slip into.

            Nearly ten minutes later Andrew came back, his hair still wet. Neil flicked the strands out his face, slicked them back from his forehead. Andrew grumbled at his touch but didn’t pull away, didn’t ask him to stop. Neil dropped his hand after a few seconds anyways, smart enough not to say anything. If he did, Andrew would let loose his rant about the new owner in front of the entire team and while Neil was sure they were all thinking it (the new owner was twenty-one, two years younger than any of them, and had zero interest in Exy as far as any of them could tell), it wouldn’t do to have Andrew in the middle of his tirade when the guy walked through the door with their coach.

            Five more minutes slipped by before the door to the locker room opened. Every head turned towards it. Their coach entered first. Then a man stepped out from behind him at his name, Ronan Lynch, looking every inch like the tough rich kid his name and status implied. Shaved head, devilish blue eyes, and a tattoo curling down the side of his neck, he had the air of someone Neil was in the business of avoiding. Men like this were men his father would’ve hired to kill him.

            Beside him, Andrew let out a low whistle. Neil shot him a look.

            “Think you can take him?” Neil asked.

            “I can think of better things to do with him.”

            Neil, shocked, looked between Andrew and Ronan quickly, sized the other man up. “Really?”

            “He’s hot.”

            Neil stared at Ronan for a moment, didn’t see it. “You gonna leave me for him?”

            Andrew gave him a look, a look he was well used to by this point. “Please don’t tell me you really can’t tell that he’s hot. You have eyes, don’t you?”

            “How many times do I have to tell you I’m only attracted to you?”

            Andrew rolled his eyes. “Well, for future reference, he’s hot.”

            Neil stared at the new owner for a long moment. Whatever the coach was saying about him was lost to his ears, a dull buzz as he tried to size up the man. He honestly didn’t see it. Maybe he didn’t have eyes. He shrugged. “Doesn’t look like the type that’d let you tie him up.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew shot Neil a mischievous look. “Wanna bet?”

 

Ronan sat in the coach’s office for most of the day filling out paperwork. He wouldn’t have done this just to piss Gansey off if he’d have any idea how much work it was going to be. It definitely didn’t help that he had no idea what he was signing and that random team members kept poking their heads in to bother him.

            He didn’t really pay much attention until one of the ones he recognized, one of the two guys Gansey was obsessed with, poked his head in. He had rapped his knuckles twice on the doorframe before pulling back to stand awkwardly in the doorway, a goofy smile on his face. Ronan looked up at him and said, “Can I help you?”

            “Yeah, umm, just want to get to know you,” the guy said. Josten, Ronan thought. The striker. He knew he had a team list somewhere, which he looked for as Josten continued, “You know, figure out who’s running the team now, what direction you’re going in.”

            “Hell, if there’s any more paperwork,” Ronan said. He slipped a team roster out from a pile of papers and found the name and number. Neil Josten. Number ten.

            “Any other reason you’re going to hell?”

            Ronan looked up at the guy. Two years older than him, innocent but with a cheeky grin, and auburn hair plastered to his face with sweat. Ronan was pretty sure the coach had said they were running laps all day, so either he was letting his team come back here to bug him or they were slipping away on purpose. Ronan wasn’t sure what was the better option when it came to a sports team he now owned.

            “What?” Ronan asked.

            Neil shrugged. “You know. The usual stuff. Murder. Rape. Maybe you’re got handcuffs in your closet?”

            Ronan blinked.

            “Or leather straps. Maybe silk, since you know, you’re rich and—”

            Neil was abruptly pulled out of the doorway and soon another body replaced his. Shorter but with twice the anger, this one had to be Andrew. The goalie. “Sorry,” Andrew said. “Neil’s got no filter. Tragic brain injury at birth.”

            Ronan stared at him too, attempted to regain his cool. _Had he imagined that a stranger had just asked him about bondage?_ He shook his head. “Should he really be playing a violent sport then?”

            Andrew shrugged and walked into the office. Picking a picture up off the desk, he flopped into one of the chairs across from Ronan and said, “Damage is already done.”

            “What do you want?”

            Andrew shrugged again. “I like to know who I’m dealing with. Tell me something about yourself.”

            “Like whether or not I’m going to hell?”

            “Like...” Andrew paused for a moment, searched for words. “You got a girlfriend?”

            “Boyfriend.”

            “Boyfriend?” Andrew said. His voice relayed no surprise, no real emotion to the repeated word. He flipped the picture in his hand, not an easy task with the sharp metal edges, but he didn’t even flinch when it impaled his hand. “Top or bottom?”

            “What?”

            “With your boyfriend.”

            Ronan met crystal clear blue eyes and determined that the man in front of him was probably on meth. What the fuck did Gansey see in these two guys who were determined to know everything about his sex life? “I think you should leave,” Ronan said.

            Andrew shrugged, set the picture back down, and left the office.

            Ronan determined to finish the paperwork as soon as physically possible.

 

Halfway through the day’s practice, the team was taking a water break in the locker room when a man strolled in. He had cracked hands and dusty brown hair, an air of hard work. He headed straight for the back office and Andrew watched him go.

            Neil glanced at his boyfriend. “Is he hot too?”

            “Yeah,” Andrew said. “But, more importantly, he’s Ronan’s boyfriend.” He gave Neil a knowing look.

            Neil frowned. “No. No way. If you wanted to just ask, you could’ve asked Ronan.”

            “Yeah, ‘cause I’m gonna ask a guy if he likes to be tied down.”

            “And I’d ask a guy if he likes to tie people down?”

            Andrew gave him a mock confused look. “That’s not how you flirt?”

            “Fuck you,” Neil said, but when the man left the small office, Neil followed him all the same. He walked after him down the hallway, left a few feet between the locker room doors and them before calling, “Hey! Excuse me!”

            The man turned. “I don’t know anything about Exy or what Ronan’s doing with the team.”

            “Yeah, no,” Neil said. He stopped a foot away from the man, faked a smile. “I need to ask you something else, actually. Something kinda, well really, stupid.”

            The man raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

            “Do you ever tie Ronan up?”

            Blue eyes stared at him for a solid minute before blinking. Andrew was good at staring, Andrew was _great_ at staring, but he had nothing on the man in front of Neil now. “What?” the man said.

            “Look, me and Andrew have this stupid bet on whether or not Ronan likes to be tied down and since you’re his boyfriend I thought, well, I thought I’d ask.”

            The man blinked. It was a good blink too. Maybe not filled with the same disdain and you’re-an-idiot connotation that Andrew’s blinks were filled with, but pretty close. “You can’t... you can’t ask people that.”

            “Right,” Neil said. “Sorry.”

            The man shook his head and walked away.

 

 Ronan looked up from his paperwork when Adam walked back in. He had a vaguely haunted look on his face and slumped down in a seat across from the desk instead of walking around to help Ronan fill out the forms. Ronan set down his pen. “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing.”

            Ronan stared at his boyfriend for a moment. “Okay... what do you think of the team?”

            “They’re...” Adam paused, shrugged. His eyes hit every object in the room except for Ronan. “Interesting.”

            “Interesting?”

            Adam bit his bottom lip. “I think one of them has a crush on you.”

            “What?”

            “He asked if you liked being tied up,” Adam said. “Well, he asked if I tied you up.”

            Ronan blinked. “What’d you say?”

            “I didn’t say anything.”

            “Was it Josten? Number ten?”

            Adam nodded.

            “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

 

Neil sat on a bench in the locker room while the rest of the team showered. He flicked his cell phone open and then closed as texts from Nicky came in, one after another, none of them important whatsoever. He was only minorly surprised when Ronan came out of the coach’s office and stopped at the end of the bench. Looking up with an eyebrow raised, Neil stopped flipping his phone to meet the other man’s stare.

            “Do you have a crush on me?” Ronan asked.

            Neil blinked. “What?”

            Ronan just stared at him.

            Yet another person who was good at staring, maybe better at staring than his boyfriend was. The silence was also an interesting tactic, but not one that Neil was unused to, so instead of thinking of the question, he used the silence to consider what having a crush on the man in front of him would be like. But since Neil was fairly certain he’d never even had a crush on Andrew, it was hard to say what he was supposed to feel towards Ronan. Sure, the guy had nice arms, broad shoulders, he had a good build for an Exy player. The tattoo was kinda cool but Neil still couldn’t see him as anything more than a threat.

            So he answered honestly, “Nope.”

            “Then why have you been asking about handcuffs and tying me up?”

            Neil licked his lips, looked down at his phone as another text came through. With a shrug, he said, “Stupid bet.”

            Again, Ronan stared at him in silence.

            “My boyfriend has a crush on you,” Neil said. “And he doesn’t like having sex if he can’t tie a guy up.”

            The two stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them backing down. Ronan’s glare held all the stylistic flares of Andrew’s but with an odd heat to it that made it harder to hold than Andrew’s apathetic stare. But still Neil held his ground, more comfortable in silence than he was in speech. After a minute, Ronan nodded and said, “Once you’re washed up, come talk to me. Both of you.”

 

Ronan had no idea what the fuck he was doing waiting in his office for two over-sexed Exy players to come talk to him about bondage. No fucking idea. But somehow it had been his idea to have the meeting, despite the fact that once he was done the paperwork he could just go ahead and forget this day from hell had ever happened. He’d own an Exy team with some possibly insane sex addicts on it, sure, but he wouldn’t have to see them ever again.

            And maybe that’s why Ronan was curious to know what was going on. Certainly Neil wasn’t bad looking and his boyfriend (who Ronan assumed through rumours and the general fact that he wasn’t an idiot had to be Andrew Minyard) wasn’t too hard on the eyes either. And surely he wasn’t opposed to being tied up, but really, when it came down to it, he had Adam. And he wasn’t going to give up Adam for a BDSM threesome with two of Gansey’s favourite Exy players.

            He had already made his way to the last page of the paperwork when Andrew and Neil walked in. Andrew was grumbling under his breath, unintelligible words that Neil shushed and the two of them slumped into the chairs across from Ronan. Ronan looked between the two of them, settled his stare on Andrew, who stared back at him. Ronan couldn’t remember the last staring contest he’d lost, the last time he’d met anyone who could hold out on silence as long as he could. But here that person was, his final challenge, in the form of a five foot tall Exy player.

            “So,” Ronan said, because there was nothing else to say. He twirled his pen in his hand. “I think we need to figure out a way to work together.”

            “We don’t work together,” Andrew said.

            “I know, but—”

            “But you’re enough of a rich prick that you want to be involved in every aspect of our lives anyways?” Andrew’s smile was ice and venom.

            Ronan glared at him. “Is that how you fucking flirt?”

            Andrew snorted and flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m not letting you touch me.”

            “I’m not cheating on Adam.”

            Andrew’s eyes shot away for a moment and then he shrugged. “He can join.” When his eyes met Ronan’s again, the look was electric. For all intents and purposes, the man looked bored out of his fucking mind, so done with the conversation that they might as well as been talking about taxes, but his words were dead serious and for a moment Ronan let his mind slip to a bedroom with him and Adam and Andrew and Neil together.

            “No fucking way,” Neil said. The man didn’t sound offended or scared. He stared at his boyfriend in mock horror. “I’m not letting you tie three people down in a row and call it sex.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because that’s fucking disturbing.”

            Andrew shrugged and got out of his chair. “Guess we’re done here then.” He started for the door and after a second, Neil headed after him.

            Ronan stared after both of them, his mouth hanging open as the door slammed closed. He muttered, “Good talk,” and signed the last line of the contracts.

 

Neil and Andrew only got two steps away from the coach’s office before Andrew said, “You know, I probably wouldn’t have to tie you down.”

            Neil looked over at his boyfriend, the serious look in his eyes, and immediately said, “We are not going back in there to suggest that.”

            A flicker of disappointment shot through Andrew’s eye. “Fine,” he said, then smirked. “But I’m tying you down tonight.” He took a step towards Neil and kissed him, short and rough. “Yes or no?”

            Neil smiled. “Yes. Always yes.”

            “And I’m gonna call you ‘Ronan.’”

            “Fuck you.”

            Andrew leaned their foreheads together, scrunched their noses together. His hand on the back of Neil’s neck, he kissed him once, twice, before muttering lovingly, “I hate you.”

            “I know you do.”

            Andrew pushed Neil off and towards the door. Every step of the way out of the building, Neil had a grin on his face and, because of the crazy day, he couldn’t wait to get home.


End file.
